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As expected, Emma made it to the ferry terminal with plenty of time to spare and she sat in the car dozing in the morning sunshine after her early start. She thought about all the times she had made this ferry crossing over the years and how she had always taken her wonderful upbringing for granted. As a child you never paused to reflect on how much your parents did for you and all the sacrifices they made. Yet now, as Emma sat reflecting about her lovely childhood, she wished she could thank Mum for all that she had done, it had shaped who all three of them were today.
When the sisters were growing up, they all had their own jobs to do at home. Amy helped her dad in the garden. Kirsty was in charge of pegging out the laundry on the line and helped in the kitchen. Emma always insisted that she should be the one to assist with the baking, much to Kirsty’s annoyance as she loved to bake, too. Mum had always called her Em. It started when she was a toddler and then the rest of the family would call ‘Em’ in a singsong voice if they wanted something, or scream ‘Em’ if they realized she’d borrowed an item of clothing without asking. Except her father, he had always called her Emma and since their mum had passed, her sisters had reverted to calling her Emma again as though Em was a painful reminder of their loss. Max had never called her ‘Em’. It had always been ‘Emma’ or ‘Emmy’. Sometimes she missed ‘Em’.
It was a gorgeous morning and Emma noticed the holidaymakers, kayaks on their roofs, and bikes strapped to the back of caravans. It was a magical place to go on holiday and a special place to grow up with summers spent mainly on the beach, dipping in and out the sea, picnics with sandy sandwiches and ice cream cones. It didn’t matter that the ferries arrived packed with tourists over the summer months, you would always find a quiet spot to think and just be.
Despite the island being small, it had so much to offer and was rich in history. There was even evidence of Viking activity. The island hadn’t escaped the clearances of the nineteenth century when alternative land and accommodation was promised to every adult male if they emigrated to Canada. Whole villages were displaced, and the Gaelic culture of the island changed forever. They had done a project on in at school and Emma often wondered if Amy’s fascination with Canada took root when she learned about what had happened. There was even a memorial to the displaced families on the shore at Lamlash paid for by the Canadian descendants of the emigrants. As a child, Amy could often be found looking at the world map on her wall telling her sisters that she would live there one day. They never actually believed that she would.
A ticket inspector knocked on her window and jolted her from her daydreams. They were getting vehicles on board. She smiled and mouthed, ‘Thank you’, started the car and followed the line snaking ahead of her. Once on board, she sat outside, glad of the blasts of fresh air. Emma hadn’t been home since Christmas, when it had looked a lot bleaker than it was now. Back then, the sky was a heavy grey and the air was cold and damp. This morning, the water sparkled in the summer sun and the flashes of golden beach were a welcome sight. Looking around she spotted a few tourists, transfixed by the view. How she loved watching the reaction of visitors arriving on the island for the first time.
‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ a man with an Australian accent said to his partner. She nodded, seemingly spellbound.
Emma smiled. It really was magical.
‘Well, hello there, is that you, Emma?’ said a voice from behind.
She turned to see Edie smiling at her.
‘Oh, Edie. How are you? It’s so nice to see you.’
She leaned forward to hug Emma. ‘I’m very well, thanks. But more importantly, how are you? Is this you back for the big day?’
Emma nodded, genuinely pleased to see Edie, who always brightened up anyone’s day with her warm smile, twinkling eyes and brightly coloured clothes. Today she wore a cerise linen dress with orange and yellow beads. Edie had been really kind when their mum died. The women had played bridge together at the church hall in Lamlash, and Edie had been a good friend to the family, dropping off soup and dishes of lasagne and casseroles in the dismal days after her death. ‘How are you doing, Edie? You look so well. I love your dress; it really suits you.’
She smiled, clearly pleased by Emma’s compliment. ‘I am great, thanks. I have just had a lovely few days visiting a good friend of mine in Pitlochry.’
‘How nice,’ said Emma. ‘I do love it there.’ Pitlochry was one of her favourite places. It was a small and very pretty townin Perth and Kinross, lying on the River Tummel. In fact, it was where Max had unexpectedly proposed to her right by the famous salmon ladder which wasspecially constructed to help salmon bypass the dam and make their way upstream to Loch Faskally above.
‘Are you all set then?’
‘I think so, although fortunately Kirsty has it all in hand. Amy is back and it will just be nice to have some time with them.’
Edie nodded. ‘Your dad will be pleased to have you all back.’
Just then an announcement came over the tannoy asking passengers to return to their cars. ‘Lovely seeing you, dear. You take care and enjoy every minute of your special day. I am so looking forward to it.’ She hugged her again before adding, ‘Don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything.’
‘Thanks so much.’ Emma watched as Edie deftly nipped between the crowd in front and made her way to the car deck. She was glad they had invited Edie to the wedding. It was going to be hard enough getting through the day without her mum and it reassured her to think that Edie would be there. She knew she would keep an eye on things in the same way that her mum would have.
Kirsty had offered to meet her off the ferry, but Emma reassured her she would be fine, and would make her own way to Meadowbank Cottage. There was something about the short drive home that she always found quite reassuring. She texted Kirsty to let her know she had made the ferry and to expect her just after nine. She smiled as she thought of seeing her sisters which she hoped would help settle her nerves.
Emma normally prided herself on her organizational skills. She could have held a first-class degree in efficiency yet almost left the flat without her wedding dress and kilt that morning despite all her checks. She had left them hanging in the hallway in a white protective carrier and managed to walk right past them, actually ducking to avoid them. It was only as she was about to pull away that she remembered and dashed back up to get them.
Steadying her hands on the steering wheel, she took a breath; this was all normal. Everyone felt like this before they married, didn’t they? The little voice reminded her that not everyone found out that they were in early menopause just days before their wedding.
There was a clunk as cars started to slowly drive off the ship and over the metal ramp. It was a feeling that always made her feel at home and when she drove round the corner and out of the terminal she could have cried. It was all so familiar, and she felt that sense of belonging, and a bit of her tension slowly start to ease off.
She was so glad that Kirsty and Steve had decided to buy the family home and run their business from it. It would be so weird not to have a place to return to when she did visit Arran. She knew she was lucky that their home was still in the family. There was no way she would ever have wanted to buy it or stay there permanently, but rather selfishly she always wanted to know she could come back if she wanted.
She felt a twinge of guilt that Kirsty was the one who had borne the brunt of everything with their mum and now their dad these past two years. Then she felt even worse when she reminded herself that she hadn’t seen Dad for six months. Her parents used to visit her in Edinburgh all the time as they loved the museums and art galleries and visiting the theatre. However, she didn’t think Dad had left the island at all since Mum died.
Pulling into the driveway, she sat for a moment looking at the blonde sandstone building in front of her which was so homely and meant everything to her. Then she watched the door swing open and Amy and Kirsty run out to greet her. Jumping out the car, she grinned.
‘Hello bride-to-be.’ Amy threw herself at her older sister and hugged her close.
‘You look tired, Emma,’ said Kirsty, stepping forward to give her a quick hug.
‘Jeez thanks, Kirsty. You soundsolike Mum.’
Kirsty frowned. ‘Sorry.’
